


To Clear Away Today

by suhmayzooka



Category: Free!
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Blood and Injury, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Medical Procedures, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Past Abortion, Past Character Death, Politics, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, Wakes & Funerals, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suhmayzooka/pseuds/suhmayzooka
Summary: Stifling a groan, he wondered what would kill him first: the global uprising that was aiming to raze the Foundation to the ground, or the midterms he had later that afternoon.If war didn’t do him in, then “Topics in Diplomatic Relations III” surely would.The Foundation for the Refuge and Education of the Extraordinary seeks to train young people who are gifted with supernatural abilities and help them acclimate to the world as soldiers, politicians, medics, and academics.The students can only hope there will be a world left for them after graduation.
Relationships: Hazuki Nagisa/Ryuugazaki Rei, Kirishima Ikuya/Tono Hiyori, Kirishima Natsuya/Serizawa Nao, Kurimiya Akane/Mikoshiba Seijuurou, Matsuoka Gou/Mikoshiba Isuzu, Matsuoka Rin/Yamazaki Sousuke, Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto, Shigino Kisumi/Shiina Asahi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 12





	To Clear Away Today

**Author's Note:**

> i had a really long, rambling author's note that can be read on my [tumblr,](https://suhmayzooka-creates.tumblr.com/post/639965800670822400/to-clear-away-today-a-free-dystopian-au-work) but basically i want to say that this story is the product of three of the darkest years of my life. it may seem silly but this fic is really a part of me. i channeled my own experiences into it, tried to make sense of things around me when i was in such a dark place. and, when i realized that this *is* such a personal story, i realized it doesn't matter that i'm not a perfect writer, or that this will never be a literary masterpiece. this fic, this universe, provided both escapism for me and a way for me to make sense of my experiences. 
> 
> i am immensely grateful to anyone who's let me rant about this fic, on twitter/discord/tumblr, and given me motivation that maybe i can see this through.
> 
> the title comes from jayme dee's song rules, which ended up becoming a sort of theme song for the fic as a whole. jayme dee, i think you've left social media/the internet, but on the extreme chance you somehow find this fic, i want to say: thank you for creating such a perfectly atmospheric, evocative, inspiring song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is nonlinear! it's meant to be a little jarring but hopefully not too confusing; i promise the future chapters will be a lot more straightforward, but right now haru's just having a rough time

**Warning: this story is based partially on my own experiences and partially on those of people i know and love. i have taken care to treat the issues presented with respect and with accuracy. please heed the warnings tagged, because i feel censoring any aspect of this would be a disservice to the story and to the people and events that inspired it. in particular, this chapter contains references to death, funerals, alcoholism, child neglect, war, and attempted (but unsuccessful) self harm.**

* * *

_There's water in your eyes and I know I'm the reason that it's there,_  
_But still I don't feel bad because I know that you have more to spare._  
_And just behind your eyes are switches that can turn back on,_  
_To clear away today 'til all your memories are gone._

**-[rules](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vjfqbRbPsk) by jayme dee**

* * *

Between lessons on surviving bullet wounds and placating legislators, Haru's instructors decided to incorporate mindfulness training into the curriculum. This was spurred by the precarious emotional state of the student body—possibly due to the stress of enduring several life-or-death situations a week—and the administration promised to provide more amenities tailored to each student's personal needs.

Such changes included replacing half the library with a cushioned "meditation room," decreeing that each teacher could give no more than two exams a week, and installing a round basin of water on the wall next to Haru's bed.

Haru had little use for the meditation room (too many students), and the new exam schedule had hardly any effect on him (he rarely cared enough to study in the first place), but the new addition in his room was certainly an improvement. Now, when he wanted to avoid the world of heavy expectations he could not fulfill, he could simply sit cross-legged on his bed and let his feelings sculpt shapes out of the basin's contents.

He found himself in this state the final morning of his second year. While his peers were bustling about, dressed in the most nondescript-yet-formal mourning clothes they could, Haru sat and bent the water beside him.

He raised his left hand in tandem with the right, watched the way the water curved out of the basin, forming a lazy orbit around his hands. It snaked around his left arm, then his right, weaving back and forth, Haru's hands its makeshift loom.

If he opened the door he'd find himself in a short hallway, then a stairwell. Today the white halls would be decorated with black curtains. The stairs, too. Maybe there would be a temporary black carpet on the tile. He suspected the auditorium was the blackest of all. He pictured it in his mind: black hanging down the high walls, black drapes and perhaps a black frame around a portrait. It would sit as the one source of color along the surely black walls. Definitely eye-catching.

The water splashed back into the basin. Startled, he jumped, a small spray catching on his hands.

 _Focus_.

He breathed, trying not to curse at himself. The water wouldn't be shaped if he was thinking like this. The water demanded his mind to be clear, to cast away his thoughts.

_Don't focus. Feel._

He stretched his hands out again. Tentatively, the water began to ripple in the shadow of his palms. Thoughts of black walls began to melt from his mind, and he extended his fingers to allow the water to begin its journey through them.

Until he heard a small knock and the sound of the door squeaking open. The water returned to its basin, and Haru looked up to see his roommate, Makoto, gently closing the door behind him.

Underneath his blazer, Makoto was wearing a black shirt and tie instead of their usual blue and white attire. With one glance at his outfit, Haru knew exactly what Makoto would say before the words came out.

"I'll get dressed in a few minutes," he said, cutting off Makoto as the latter opened his mouth. "Just—just give me time."

Makoto said nothing. Instead, he made his way to their shared closet and began fishing for Haru's black clothing. Haru thought he'd hidden it well, buried it among wrinkled identical white shirts and blue ties, but Makoto found what he was looking for easily. He held the black bundle in his hands, his back turned to Haru, and then spoke.

"I didn't think we'd be wearing these again," said Makoto, his voice deceptively light.

That was the thing with Makoto. He always spoke to Haru so gently. Even when Haru knew Makoto was faking it.

But he appreciated Makoto's brightness rather than the pity others spoke to him with. Makoto never spoke to Haru with pity, and for as much as Makoto nagged him to eat and sleep and stay alive, Haru could never dislike him on account of that reason alone. Most of the time, Makoto knew when to leave Haru to pity himself without outside help.

And so Haru did not understand why Makoto was still standing at their closet's threshold, holding Haru's funeral garments like they would burn him.

"Give them to me and I'll put them on," said Haru. "What time do we need to be in the auditorium?"

Makoto glanced at the clock hanging above their door. "Fifteen minutes. Haru, you really don't have to go. I spoke to Nao, and he said—"

"I'm going."

" _Haru_."

The damn gentle tone. Haru took his clothes from Makoto's arms, ignoring the way Makoto's face contorted into an expression Haru couldn't read.

(Not pity, never pity).

Haru threw the black clothes onto his bed, narrowly missing the water basin, and began to shrug off his sleepwear. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Makoto had turned back around and was busying himself with the lapels of his blazer, affording Haru some makeshift privacy as he dressed.

Haru shuddered at the contrast between the black fabric and his pale skin. Makoto made his way over to help with Haru's black tie.

* * *

When Haru woke, the first thing he noticed was the fact that he was in a stiff black shirt. He had apparently been wearing a black tie, too, which he saw swimming among the sheets in his bed.

Blinking, the second thing he noticed was the fact that this wasn't his bed. In fact, it wasn't a bed at all, but a futon. Raising his head, he saw that he was in a small bedroom, lit by the sun's hazy glow through half-drawn blinds.

As he began to take in his surroundings, the door opened. Haru snapped his head up to see Makoto, who looked just as surprised as he felt.

"Oh, Haru!" Makoto dipped his head in a hasty greeting as he walked to the side of the futon. "Good morning—or, well, good afternoon. Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine." Haru was still in his half-dream state, not fully awake despite his body being alert. Maybe Makoto was just a dream, too, and Haru was actually asleep in his own bed in his own home.

"It's two in the afternoon." Makoto plucked Haru's tie from where it lay in the sheets. "I know you're probably not hungry, but my mom said that you need to eat, and I agree with her. You didn't eat last night."

Eat. When did Haru last eat? Was Makoto right? Did he not eat for at least a whole day?

Makoto brushed his thumb against Haru's knuckles. "Haruka?"

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry. You weren't responding. I asked if I should tell my mom you're up."

Maybe he was still dreaming. Makoto's face swum in and out of focus in front of him, and Haru didn't realize he closed his eyes until they cracked open when he noticed the loss of Makoto's hand against his.

Somewhere in his dream state, he heard a distinctly female voice drifting through the air. Makoto's mother, most likely. He strained to listen to Mrs. Tachibana's warping voice, picking up on whatever sounds his mind registered as words until he was picking sentences from the air.

"… yes, he'll be staying with us… bereavement policy… I'll see when he's able to return to class… Makoto will stay for now… he'll return to school first… yes, it was yesterday…"

It was like Mrs. Tachibana had marched into that bedroom and poured ice onto Haru's head. All at once, recollections of the previous day flickered through his mind.

His parents' funeral. A swarm of people he didn't recognize touching his shoulder and giving their condolences. Telling him how lucky he was to have such brave parents. The Tachibanas, his neighbors, bringing him back to their home, where he had collapsed onto the futon in the spare room.

He felt no sadness. He felt rage.

His parents were barely ever home with him. When he was younger, he slept here, in the Tachibanas’ home, more often than in his own, because the Tachibanas had taken pity on him for being a child left alone while his parents spent their time out working.

When Haru reached middle school, he had become embarrassed at having to rely on his neighbors and somehow convinced them to let him live on his own. They were reluctant at the prospect of leaving a preteen alone in an empty house for extended periods of time, but they let him have his way in the end. After all, they could jump to help him if he ever needed them. And Makoto, shocked at Haru’s limited diet, would bring over portions of Mrs. Tachibana’s cooking for Haru to eat.

Now that his parents were gone, taken by the very job that took their time away from Haru, was he supposed to grieve? They were essentially strangers to him. He knew more about his school teachers than he did about his parents. He didn’t know the nature of their job—top secret. Classified. Too dangerous for their son to know about.

If that was the case, why have a son at all?

Even their powers were kept a secret from him. He knew Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana could control temperature and sand, respectively, but his own family never bothered to divulge their abilities to him. Their son. Were they that dangerous? Or were they just unable to put aside whatever job they had to live a normal life as his parents?

All grogginess having been replaced by anger, Haru rose from the futon. He tugged the sleeves of his black shirt down his arms and smoothed the front in a vain effort to look presentable.

* * *

“Are you really okay?” asked Makoto, adjusting the black lapels of Haru’s blazer. They were close enough for Haru to feel Makoto’s warm breath against his cheeks.

“Fine,” spat Haru. He felt Makoto’s hands flinch at the curtness of his voice and mentally chastised himself for using such a tone.

“I’m just worried about you,” said Makoto. His hands were resting on Haru’s shoulders; he had clearly judged Haru’s appearance to be satisfactory, and could now spend his energy trying to talk to Haru. “I know you’re hurting. Natsuya was your mentor and there’s no shame in pretending that you’re not affected by everything.”

Natsuya. Haru was wondering whether he or Makoto would be the first to address it. He decided Makoto had skirted around the issue for long enough—ten minutes and they’d be with the rest of the school in mourning Haru’s deceased mentor.

Natsuya had taught a few introductory courses back in Haru’s first year—an introduction to political theory, a basic combat class—and had taken an immediate liking to Haru. While other students were concentrated on learning a specific discipline (combat was rather popular, for example, as was political science; Makoto was training to become a paramedic), Haru had no interest in studying anything in particular. Least of all combat.

Instructors and students alike could never believe someone as “talented” as Haru would have no desire to further his skills, but Natsuya seemed to be the only person who understood. In between sparring sessions, he would praise Haru’s “free spirit.” Natsuya was remarkably anti-authoritarian and slightly irresponsible, which was unnerving at first (even to Haru), but after studying under Natsuya he understood the need to be free of constraints and expectations. After all, Haru was the same way.

“He understood me,” Haru said at last. “He knew what it was like to be free.”

Makoto had that look in his eyes again, the open, not-pity look.

“I know,” said Makoto. At some point he’d taken Haru’s hand in his and was rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “ _I know_.”

This was starting to be too much for Haru. He turned his head away from Makoto’s gaze.

“We’re going to be late,” muttered Haru. “I—we can’t be late." _Not for this_.

Makoto squeezed his hand as he led the way out of the dorm room.

* * *

Haru was grateful the Tachibanas understood his need for space, but he was just as thankful to find the family waiting for him in the main room of their house.

They had been speaking quietly with each other until he entered. Makoto and his parents were huddled together on the couch, while the young twins, Ran and Ren, ate more silently than Haru had ever seen them.

Mrs. Tachibana rose first and walked to Haru with arms outstretched. Haru obliged her for a moment before shrugging out of the embrace.

“I’ve cooked for you,” said Mr. Tachibana, pointing towards the table where Ran and Ren were seated. “You’re probably not feeling well, but you should eat something light.”

“I’m not hungry,” said Haru.

At this, Makoto leaped up and strode to Haru’s side.

“Haru, please.”

Not the begging. Haru liked to think he was immune to Makoto’s voice when it went all whiny like that, but one look at Makoto’s pleading eyes was enough to know that he had overestimated his resolve.

“Fine.”

Makoto’s mouth curled into what appeared to be the beginnings of the first smile Haru had seen since before the funeral. Not a full smile just yet—Haru suspected Makoto was too tactful to show any outward display of joy now that his best friend was an orphan—but Haru noticed and appreciated the gesture.

He wanted to see Makoto smile again. That would mean everything was back to normal, and the world would stop treating Haru like a tragedy.

The two made their way to the table and sat across from Ran and Ren. They ate in silence. The twins, unused to the awkwardness, excused themselves after the first few minutes, leaving Haru to glare at food that was steadily growing colder.

“We’re taking the day off from school,” said Makoto, no doubt trying to fill the silence. “And the rest of the week, too. And if you need more than that, just tell my mom. Our teachers will understand.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you let Kisumi rope you into doing this,” Haru grumbled as he and Makoto scampered across campus to the Extrinsic dorm building. The Foundation’s main building was big enough to hold no more than the Elemental and Intrinsic dorms—the sheer volume of Extrinsic students had required a separate building just for them.

Makoto laughed, white puffs of air spilling out of his mouth into the chilly breeze. “Kisumi had nothing to do with this. This is all about Rin!”

“Did Kisumi say how long this will last?”

Makoto stopped abruptly, a slight pout on his lips.

“Really? A goodbye party for our friend—”

“So-called ‘friend.’”

“— _our friend_ Rin, and all you’re concerned about is how long until you can get back to bed.” Makoto shook his head, but there was distinct fondness in his voice. “Why am I not surprised?”

“We can say goodbye in the morning. He doesn’t leave until noon, at least.” Haru brushed against Makoto’s shoulder as he continued walking to the dorm. “You’re not a partier either. Did Kisumi Command you?”

“Jeez, Haru—”

“He did, didn’t he.”

“... I’m pretty sure the nature of Kisumi’s ability prevents people from knowing if they’re being controlled,” said Makoto evasively. “But regardless, just because this was planned by Kisumi doesn’t mean it’s awful.”

“The last time we attended one of Kisumi’s events you ended up blacked out.” In a quieter voice, Haru added, “ _Lightweight_.”

“And I learned a valuable lesson about pacing myself!” Makoto grinned. “I promise I won’t make you carry me back to our room again.”

“Good.”

“… you don’t have any promise you’d like to make?”

 _I promise I’ll try to talk Rin out of this, even though it’s impossible. I promise I’ll accept his decision._ “Not really.”

Makoto did not press him further. Instead, they walked silently, Makoto’s gloved hands deep in the pockets of his coat and Haru’s nose buried in his scarf.

The Extrinsic dormitory was made of the same red brick as the rest of the buildings on the campus. Unlike the main structure, however, it was just three stories tall and lacked any of the distinctive arches or columns that gave the main building its grand appearance. Haru had visited here once before, and that was a miserable experience of too many sweaty bodies packed together and too much free-flowing alcohol.

“I think we can use the main entrance?” At some point on their journey Makoto had wound his arm around Haru’s and was leading the way to the large double doors. “Oh god, what if I got the location wrong? And then we have to explain what we’re doing here… hey, Haru—”

Makoto’s anxious rambling was cut when the doors swung open.

“You came!”

Kisumi trotted out, his arms outstretched to greet the two of them. Makoto returned his hug, while Haru stepped back to avoid any contact with Kisumi.

“It’s so cold out here!” Kisumi chirped. His voice was muffled; he had taken it upon himself to nuzzle into Makoto’s shoulder. “You don’t mean to tell me you two walked all the way here?”

Makoto and Haru responded at the same time.

“It was no trouble,” said Makoto. Haru mumbled, “Then why did you invite us?”

If Kisumi heard Haru, he ignored him. Kisumi had broken away from Makoto’s arms and was readjusting his tie; Haru had no idea why he was still in his uniform, but the sight of Kisumi in his vest and blazer made him feel awkwardly underdressed in his fraying sweater.

“You’re right on time,” said Kisumi, dragging Makoto by the arm to the threshold. Haru trailed behind them. “Rin’s out finalizing things with the Headmistress, so he should be back soon.”

Inside was a large foyer flanked on both sides by identical spiral staircases, one with a gold plaque labelled MEN and the other WOMEN. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Haru didn’t have the opportunity to appreciate the architecture of the building since there was a large crowd of students bustling and mingling about. There was loud laughter, and a group of students were perched on each other’s shoulders, trying to hang a large banner of Rin’s face above an ornate fireplace.

“Looking good, Takuya!” Kisumi called, flashing a bright smile to the boys struggling to figure out how to fit the banner above the fireplace without making it lopsided. One student, who seemed to be shaking under the weight of his classmate on his shoulders, flipped Kisumi off. Haru didn’t blame him.

Kisumi stopped and faced Haru and Makoto, a hand on each of their arms. Haru cringed at the contact.

“I’m going to run and change into some nicer clothes,” said Kisumi, nodding in the direction of the MEN’s staircase. “Shouta brought refreshments, and I think Seijuro already had some so if he comes to talk to you, just smile and nod. I’ll be right back!”

He floated away. Although he annoyed Haru, his voice was a distraction and he was a familiar face among the Extrinsics. The place was packed and noisy—Haru was used to sparring with the Extrinsics and listening to them holler in the locker rooms, but here, in their alcohol-fueled element, they were absolutely unbearable. He was sure he had never heard such raucous laughter, screaming, or (he realized with a grimace) crashing, as the makeshift human ladder near the fireplace finally toppled down.

“Yo, Elementals!”

Seijuro’s voice was booming as he sidled up to Haru and Makoto and—yes, Kisumi was right, judging by his demeanor and scent he had most definitely helped himself to some "refreshments." He was a tall, broad man with fiery red hair and a blinding white smile.

Haru felt himself step closer to Makoto, and Makoto wrapped his arm around Haru’s shoulders. Haru didn’t mind; it was a nice reassurance from his friend.

“Come to have fun?” Haru recoiled at the volume of Seijuro’s voice. “Kisumi planned this all out. Can you believe it? You undergrads are so much more organized than the guys my age. Back in my day you brought a few bottles to the main room and hoped enough people were bored enough to show up. You kids enjoyin’ yourselves?”

Makoto nodded, prompting Seijuro to roll his eyes.

“I’m the _last_ person you can lie to,” he groaned. “Gotta _at least_ tell a half-truth.”

“We’re here for Rin,” Haru said. “Just Rin.”

Makoto nudged Haru’s side as Seijuro let out a loud guffaw.

“No lies detected! Always honest, Haru.” Seijuro clapped them both on the back—Haru swore he felt his knees buckle—and sauntered off. Beside him, Haru heard Makoto release a heavy exhale.

“I know he’s nice but he scares me,” Makoto whispered. Haru had to agree; Extrinsics in general were formidable due to their powers to read and manipulate others, but Seijuro’s lie-detecting ability paired with his extreme extroversion meant no one was able to fib their way out of whatever conversations or interactions he forced upon them.

The commotion was causing Haru’s hands to shake.

“I’m going outside,” he told Makoto. “Let me know when Rin arrives.”

Makoto nodded in understanding, and Haru pushed his way through the partygoers to the door.

* * *

The auditorium was a large, august hall that easily fit three thousand. When Haru and Makoto arrived, it was decorated just as Haru had expected. The high windows were drawn with black curtains, and the portraits of previous headmasters that lined the walls were covered by black fabric, shielding them from the view of people mourning a student who once walked their halls.

In what Haru always considered to be a design flaw, there were no seats in the auditorium. Instead, all the students had formed a great standing multitude in front of a raised stage, where a single lectern stood.

The students formed a sea of black. Black blazers and black shirts and black ties, dotted here and there with colors from hair but all Haru saw was black.

He and Makoto found their places and stood. Haru felt like he was choking.

_I need water._

Not to drink. He wanted to go back to his room and pour out his feelings and grief into the water and let the water move with him. He closed his eyes and imagined he was holding the basin. His fingers started to dance. Makoto, thankfully, did not try to hold his hands.

Haru opened his eyes when he felt the sea of black still around him. The stage was no longer empty. Deputy Headmasters Sasabe and Azuma stood on either side of the lectern, their dark suits neatly pressed. Sasabe, Haru noticed, had even shaved for the event. Behind them the prefects were standing in a dark line—Seijuro Mikoshiba, who oversaw the Extrinsic class; Akane Shiina, who had been appointed last week to oversee the Intrinsics in Natsuya’s place; and, the one everyone was undoubtedly focused on, Nao Serizawa. The man had many jobs: overseeing the Elementals, mentoring Makoto, teaching classes, directing the medics, but most importantly, he was Natsuya’s fiancé. He was currently holding his face in his hands while Akane rubbed his back.

Attention diverted away from Nao when Headmistress Amakata appeared. She wore a black veil covering her face and a dress that matched the dark drapery. She stood at the lectern, flanked by Sasabe and Azuma, and once she seemed to think the atmosphere was appropriate, she began speaking.

“Today should be a happy day.”

Haru couldn’t watch any of this. He focused on the back of the student’s head in front of him and imagined water curling around his arm.

“Today you all should be excited to go home for the break,” Amakata continued. “You should be making plans to meet with your friends, or preparing for field work. But instead, we’re here to mourn the loss of one of the best students I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Please, let us have a moment of silence for Natsuya Kirishima.”

Her request was granted, although no one would have spoken otherwise.

“Everyone,” said Amakata, “Natsuya was, and forever will be, one of the bravest, strongest, most resilient people to have ever walked these halls. I have always admired his tenacity, his willingness to speak the truth, his courage to fight for his beliefs.”

Haru bit his lip to hold back a laugh unbefitting for a funeral. Natsuya would often complain to him during their training sessions about how much Amakata annoyed him—a feeling that seemed to go both ways. “Goddamn Amakata” was one of Natsuya’s favorite sayings, as in _“Goddamn Amakata keeps pestering me to get a ‘real job’ instead of going out with the guys every weekend”_ and _“Thanks to goddamn Amakata I’m stuck teaching instead of making something of myself”_ and the ever-present _“I can never get a break, that goddamn Amakata.”_

“And so, to honor Natsuya’s memory, I have to tell you all how he died. I cannot keep this confidential, because to do so would be to go against everything he believed in. Additionally, keeping this information secret would only endanger you all.”

As if to emphasize this new transparency, she removed the veil from her head. Her gaze swept over the sea of black, and Haru found himself avoiding her eyes.

“I sent Natsuya on a routine patrol,” said Amakata. “I will live with this decision forever. We had our suspicions that a certain area was being used as a base for the Butterfly Coalition. Knowing how good of a fighter Natsuya was, I sent him to scout the place.”

There was a collective shudder. Haru felt his hands freeze.

“Natsuya was taken prisoner and killed. Butterfly’s leaders sent me photographs and other proof of his body.”

On stage, Nao’s knees seemed to buckle underneath him. Next to Haru, Makoto was staring straight ahead, his jaw hanging slack.

“We’re taking this as what it is—a direct threat to our Foundation.” Amakata’s voice was becoming noticeably raspier, and Haru noticed that her eyes were beginning to shine with tears. “The bastards of the Butterfly Coalition have hidden from us long enough, and we’ll fight back ten times more fiercely. I know this information is troubling, but I must ask you all not to worry. Some of the strongest people in the world are in this room right now. Remain vigilant, but don’t lose your composure.”

Haru thought that keeping calm would be much more difficult now that they knew that the biggest terrorist organization had killed one of their top fighters. Judging by the reactions of his classmates, this was a common opinion.

_Natsuya's dead he could fight better than half the combatants blindfolded and he's dead—_

Makoto had torn his focus away from Amakata and was staring at Haru.

“They killed him,” he mouthed. “Butterfly killed him.”

Haru was unable to respond. Thoughts of water had left his mind, and all he was thinking of was the fact that _Butterfly is active in the area Butterfly made an attack Butterfly killed one of our most powerful people if Butterfly could kill Natsuya they most definitely could kill a simple second-year combatant—_

His shock subsided into anger. _Butterfly has always been dangerous._ _Natsuya knew this but Rin didn’t know even though we tried to warn him but he’s so damn cocky why on Earth couldn’t he have listened why on Earth didn’t I fight him harder_ —

Another glance at Makoto confirmed that he was thinking the same thing.

* * *

The cold air against his face was a welcome contrast from the heat of the party inside. Haru stood still for a few moments, watching his breath form clouds as he regained his bearings.

Drawing his scarf further up his face to cover his nose, he began to walk. The dorm wasn’t a very large building; he figured he could meander around it a few times to clear his mind.

He had reached the back of the building when he noticed a large frozen puddle of water. Curious, Haru approached. He had forgotten it rained the day before, having spent most of his time in his room.

He crouched at the edge of the puddle. Evening his breath, he extended his hands and watched the ice melt away. The water rippled.

This was grounding. Haru sat crouched by the water as he sculpted shapes, unaware of how much time was passing, or even where he was. Water was the same everywhere; he might as well be back in his room poring over the basin.

“Nanase.”

He frowned. The water returned to the ground with a splash and he raised his eyes to meet the man who had interrupted him.

Leave it to Sousuke Yamazaki to ruin his one moment of peace.

“Yamazaki.”

Yamazaki wasn’t wearing many warm clothes, and he did not seem to have changed out of his uniform; he had thrown on a simple long coat, and underneath Haru could see the distinct red and gold of his tie.

“Surprised to see you out here,” said Yamazaki. His tone could not have sounded less surprised. “Not a fan of parties?”

“Rin’s not here yet so there’s no point,” said Haru, standing up.

Yamazaki regarded Haru with a cocked eyebrow. “We share that in common, then.”

Haru didn’t have the heart or words to argue. Although he and Yamazaki couldn’t stand each other, they had one mutual interest in Rin. Their friendship with Rin somehow heightened their animosity towards each other, much to Rin’s disappointment at how he was unable to make the two of them get along by forcing them into the vicinity of one another.

Yamazaki turned his attention to the water Haru had been manipulating. “Did you come out here to play in a puddle?”

“Why are you even trying to talk to me?” asked Haru. “Just read my thoughts and get whatever answer you need that way.”

“This may be shocking to you,” hissed Yamazaki, “but some of us are disciplined enough to avoid using our abilities whenever we want outside of combat.”

He spat the word combat like it had personally offended him—and, if his assumptions about why Yamazaki was talking to him were correct, Haru knew why.

Yamazaki spoke again. “Speaking of combat…”

_Here we go._

“… why the fuck is Kisumi even throwing this party? Why haven’t you talked Rin out of this _insane_ decision?”

“For the last time,” grumbled Haru, shoving his hands into his pockets and ignoring the hole in one of them, “Rin’s an adult. He’s fully capable of making his own choices. I don’t know why you think he’s some child who needs to be told what to do.”

“Quit trying to make me seem irrational,” Yamazaki growled. He squared his shoulders and drew himself to his full height—a good few inches on Haru's. “You know as well as I do—as well as just about everyone in this damn place—that Rin’s _nowhere near_ being the best combatant here.”

Between the two of them, only Yamazaki could read minds, but Haru knew exactly what Sousuke was thinking and was too proud to say: _The best combatant is you._

Yamazaki lowered his voice. “Nanase. You and I both know that the only reason Rin is going is because he has this weird one-sided rivalry with you. I honestly don’t know why he hasn’t given it up, but he hasn’t, and he thinks that going out to a _fucking warzone_ is the only way he can prove his worth. He needs to hear it from you; tell him that he has nothing to prove to you and he can finally give up this shit before it costs him his life.”

These were probably the most words either of them had spoken to each other. Haru knew that Yamazaki could get angry, judging by the perpetual scowl on his face, but being on the receiving end of wrath instead of the usual mutual irritation was a new experience. Especially since, in Haru’s opinion, none of Yamazaki’s feelings were justified.

Really, he agreed that Rin's decision was extremely stupid, borne out of pride and probably envy, but he had had enough of Yamazaki blaming _him_ for it.

“ _I’m_ not the one responsible for Rin’s delusions,” Haru snapped. “Maybe _you_ should start trusting Rin and being more supportive of how he wants to live his life.”

Yamazaki’s nostrils flared. “Could you really live with yourself if Rin ends up dying out there like his father?”

Haru faltered. Yamazaki’s eyes were wide; he looked as gobsmacked as Haru felt. Bringing up Rin’s father like that was a low blow for Yamazaki, and Haru had no idea whether he should try to dignify such a heavy statement with a response.

They stood staring at each other agape, both too shocked to say anything.

“There you are!”

For the first time in the two years of knowing him, Haru felt relieved to hear Kisumi. He ran up to them, panting slightly, dressed in a garish sequined costume. Haru found it hideous but what did he know; the thing likely cost more than a house in Iwatobi.

“I was looking everywhere for you guys,” he said. His eyes darted between Yamazaki and Haru. “And it looks like I arrived right on time to prevent you two from killing each other!”

He lightly smacked Yamazaki’s arm. In a lilting tone, he teased, “I really can’t leave you two alone, can I?”

To Haru’s surprise, Yamazaki’s voice was gentle when he responded to Kisumi, lacking any of the venom it had moments ago. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re coming back inside now.”

“Good, because Rin’s almost here,” Kisumi announced. “I saw him through the windows. I trust that the two of you can behave yourselves?”

Haru had no chance to object before Kisumi had looped one arm around him, one around Yamazaki, and marched the two of them to the dorm’s entrance.

* * *

Amakata was still delivering her eulogy, but Haru had tuned her out. She was going on about how headstrong Natsuya was, which Haru knew was just her way of saying that he was a pain to deal with.

After she finished, Sasabe and Azuma spoke. They were polite enough: Sasabe complimented Natsuya’s wit and sense of humor, while Azuma praised his combat skills. Seijuro, who was widely known to be one of Natsuya’s close friends, offered a few words about how Natsuya was the life of any party, ending with a touching anecdote about how Natsuya had supported him through “the darkest month” of his life. He didn’t elaborate; instead, he bowed his head and wordlessly returned to his place on the prefects’ line.

And then Nao took the stage.

Haru saw Nao several times during the average day, due to his role as the Elementals’ prefect. He organized study sessions and spoke to the students about their classes. Because he and Natsuya shared an office, Haru often would exchange pleasantries with Nao before and after his meetings with Natsuya. Haru recalled Nao’s poise, the careful, measured way he spoke and how he’d roll his eyes whenever Natsuya said anything remotely flirtatious.

The Nao on stage was unrecognizable. The man had long hair spilling into his eyes and an unshaven jaw. He hunched over the lectern, gripping the sides with white knuckles, and there was complete silence in the auditorium as he heaved deep breaths. Amakata stepped forward to whisper some words to him, and for a moment Haru wondered whether Nao would forego whatever he had planned, but Nao was resolute. He gave Amakata a polite smile, which she returned, and then after taking another shuddering breath began to speak.

“Natsuya,” he said, his voice much stronger than Haru had expected it to be after all that crying, “met me when I had nothing. I don’t often divulge information about my life before the Foundation, but my family abandoned me when my ability presented. They have powers too—but I suppose the nature of my own ability scared them, and they wanted nothing to do with me.”

A murmur rippled among the sea of black. Most students found Nao’s power—the ability to manipulate others’ senses, causing them to experience hallucinations he called “illusions”—fascinating, but it was no surprise he was feared. Haru imagined a young Nao unable to fully control his power, causing the people around him to see and hear things that weren’t there and being unable to make it stop.

“But of course,” Nao continued, “my illusions never affected Natsuya. We were in high school, and I was basically homeless, when we met. He couldn’t see my illusions and thus had no reason to fear me. I’m glad he couldn’t; back then I really had no control and the things I caused people to experience were quite horrifying.

“He gave me shelter and support, but more importantly he gave me the ability to learn how to trust. And later, he gave me love.”

He paused, allowing the students to absorb his words. Nao was notoriously taciturn about his private life and refused any public displays of affection, to the point where there was a running joke among the student body as to whether he actually liked Natsuya. While Haru never really cared about the details of Natsuya and Nao’s relationship—he’d seen enough ‘proof’ of its legitimacy whenever the two were together in their office—hearing Nao speak so candidly moved him.

“Natsuya was reckless,” said Nao, his voice beginning to break, “and brash, and emotional. But he was also kind, and courageous, and charming, and honest, and I am honored to have had the opportunity to love him.”

Haru felt the rush of Makoto’s hands moving to cover his mouth. Tear tracks were visible on his cheeks, and Haru gently pressed his shoulder against Makoto’s.

Nao had nothing else to say. Amakata took his hands in hers and whispered something to him, to which he smiled and nodded in response. Amakata walked back to the center and asked if anyone in the audience would like to speak.

It was a pointed question obviously directed at the student standing with his head down in the front row. All heads in the auditorium, Haru’s included, turned to Ikuya Kirishima, Natsuya’s younger brother in Haru’s year, who was avoiding eye contact with everyone around him.

“Anyone?” asked Amakata. She was staring straight at Ikuya, but he did not move. “No? Okay, then… we all will continue to remember the great things Natsuya has done for our community. Going forward, I hope to see you all embody his perseverance and strength in whatever endeavors you choose! Speak to me or another member of our staff if you’d like to meet with a grief counselor. I’ve been in contact with some. And on that somber note,” she added, her voice cheery, “I hope you manage to enjoy your break! I look forward to seeing you all safe and healthy next semester.”

Odd way to end a funeral, thought Haru, although he didn’t have many funerals to compare this one to. The students began to file out of the auditorium, and Haru felt Makoto’s hand in his as they joined the rest of the tide.

* * *

Haru really had no appetite, but under Makoto’s scrutiny he managed to take a few bites of Mr. Tachibana’s food. While eating and drinking cold water, he had the sudden desire to visit the seaside.

Iwatobi was a quaint little port town, with all the idyllic charm of small rustic villages. It was close enough to the suburbs so as not to be completely cut off from human civilization, but with mountains on one side and the coast on the other, it was remote enough to have its own distinct culture. Fishermen were celebrities, and their seafaring adventures were the most exciting bits of gossip exchanged amongst old wives.

A good part of Iwatobi's appeal was the way the ocean could be seen from any point. There was a common saying amongst the townsfolk that being born in Iwatobi meant that your first breath tasted like saltwater, and the sea green color of your veins meant your blood was mixed with a bit of the ocean. You can’t escape blood, and therefore true Iwatobians can never find a real home away from the water.

Although Haru was always quite solitary by nature, he did feel lonely growing up without his parents’ presence, and the ocean had become a sanctuary for him. Standing in the waves, or even just being in their presence, reminded him that he wasn’t ever alone in the world. The tide didn’t yield to such simple human follies as loneliness or heartbreak, and neither should he. He had the fortune of walking by the ocean on his route to and from school; if he was unable to physically visit the shore, his bedroom had a lovely view of the water, and he was content to sit by his window and watch.

Through the Tachibanas’ window, Haru could see the distinctive shimmer of the sunlight hitting the rolling ocean waves. As he watched the rhythm of the tide, he felt a hunger rise inside him: a yearning that food wouldn't sate.

This wasn't the first time he felt this pull. He felt a hunger for the sea.

 _I'm going to the beach_ , he wanted to tell Makoto, but before he could there was a flurry of commotion by the front door. As Haru made to ask why they had guests over today, there was a flash of fluffy blond hair and a young boy latching himself onto Haru in a tight hug.

"Haru!"

Haru's arms moved from where they hung awkwardly at his side, patting the crown of the boy's head. "Nagisa."

Nagisa was two years younger than Haru and Makoto. They were brought together due to the close proximity of their homes and the fact that they went to the same elementary and middle school; though Haru didn't think he had much in common with Nagisa's juvenile personality, he appreciated the boy's company and looked forward to seeing him around Iwatobi.

Nagisa had not come to the funeral. The Tachibanas had asked Haru if he'd like to invite Nagisa, but Haru declined, citing the boy's young age. Nagisa was bright and innocent, and Haru didn't want to taint that so soon.

Haru had no siblings, but he imagined a younger brother would be like Nagisa.

"I'm very sorry to hear about your parents," said Nagisa, pulling away and looking up at Haru with big, round eyes. "My mom and dad want you to know that you can hang out with us whenever you like."

 _Great_ , thought Haru. Was the whole town pitying him, the new orphan? Were they all prepared to welcome Haru into their families and treat him as his parents never did? His parents' deaths must have been the most exciting thing to happen in Iwatobi in years. He'd never received the same amount of attention as he did the day before, being doted on by many strange townspeople.

"Thank you, Nagisa," said Haru instead.

Nagisa then seemed to register Makoto and launched himself into a hug with a squeal. Makoto was a lot more receptive of Nagisa's affections than Haru had been, ruffling Nagisa's hair with one hand and rubbing circles on his back with the other.

"You two haven't spoken to me all that much," said Nagisa. "I'm a senior in middle school now! It's so stressful! My sisters don't help me with my homework anymore and it's so hard—how do you two do it?"

"Surely you can speak to your teacher?" suggested Makoto, releasing Nagisa. "There are tutoring services, right, Haru?"

"I think so," said Haru. He never used them.

"Just do your best, Nagisa," said Makoto. "I'm sorry we haven't been in contact. We'll go to your graduation ceremony, won't we, Haru?"

Graduation ceremony. It was only middle school, but Haru had a difficult time imagining Nagisa as anything other than the kid who followed him and Makoto around Iwatobi. Nagisa was so childlike, his eyes so wide and innocent. Haru didn't want to imagine him as a high schooler.

"Sure. We'll come."

Nagisa beamed. "Haru and Makoto coming to my graduation ceremony! I wish my sisters were like you. They don't want to come. I can pretend you're my brothers instead."

Makoto gently chided Nagisa, but Haru could tell he was flattered. Haru certainly was.

Nagisa stayed for a few more minutes. He chattered happily about his teachers and his friends, about what he ate for dinner and how he saw a new music player in one of the shops that he _desperately_ wanted for his birthday. Haru appreciated Nagisa's positivity; it was a welcome relief from all the sympathy he had garnered in the past few days.

When Nagisa left, the distraction was gone, and Haru once again felt the twisting pull in his gut.

"Haru," said Makoto, once he'd finished waving goodbye to Nagisa's retreating figure, "do you want to change out of your clothes? I have some you could borrow—yours must be uncomfortable—"

Haru adjusted the cuffs of his black shirt, but he had no intention of changing. There was something more important that he had to see. To feel.

"I want to go to the beach," he said.

"The beach?"

"Yes." And there must have been something persuading in Haru's expression, because Makoto sighed and bent down to put on his boots. He called over his shoulder to tell his parents what he was doing, then, receiving their approval, opened their door for Haru.

"Alright," said Makoto. "Let's go."

* * *

The Foundation's cafeteria food did its best to taste homemade, but in Haru's opinion it held no weight next to what he ate at the Tachibanas', or even what he could cook for himself. Still, the students were "highly discouraged" from making their own food in their dorms and "highly encouraged" to eat what the campus provided, so Haru and Makoto found themselves at their usual table, picking at a shared bowl of rice and soup in the hour following Natsuya's funeral.

Haru's vision was unfocused. He had brought that up to Makoto, who insisted it was a symptom of Haru's poor diet and proof he needed to eat _immediately_ , but even with food in his belly Haru had difficulty concentrating.

"—ka. Haruka. _Haruka_."

Oh, this must be important. Makoto only ever used his full given name to get his attention when it was most necessary.

"Don't call me that," said Haru.

"Sorry," said Makoto, "but you might want to look up. Headmaster Azuma is coming over to us."

" _What_?"

But Makoto was right; Deputy Headmaster Azuma was striding towards them. He'd found the time to change out of his black suit, and was now sporting his usual rumpled white shirt under a billowing dark coat.

"Nanase, Tachibana," grunted Azuma in way of a greeting.

"Hello, sir," said Makoto. Haru remained silent.

Azuma huffed. "Nao wants to see you two," he drawled.

Frowning, Haru glanced at Makoto for an explanation, but Makoto seemed just as bewildered.

" _Both_ of us?" asked Makoto.

"'s what he said." Azuma crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't ask why."

Haru had very rarely spoken to Nao; that was left to Makoto. Haru's interactions with Nao were limited to classroom lectures and seeing him in passing during his meetings with Natsuya, so he was confused why Nao wanted to see him in addition to Makoto. Makoto he could understand, as that was his student, but Haru?

"Okay, then," said Makoto, rising from his seat. "Um. Let's go, Haru."

To Haru's annoyance, Azuma led the way. Makoto seemed too polite to tell Azuma that they could find Nao's room by themselves; Azuma seemed determined to use this as an opportunity to continue aggravating Haru.

"Y'know," said Azuma as they walked down the long hallway, "Natsuya was always impressed with you."

Haru felt his jaw clench and a scowl form.

"Always would go on about how you were a natural combatant," Azuma continued, flashing the badge on his lapel at a pair of doors and watching them open. "The way he'd speak could make anyone think that _you_ were his brother, 'stead of Ikuya. How he'd never seen anyone with such raw potential as you."

_Prodigy._

Azuma let them ahead of him. Haru's pace quickened, and Makoto rushed to stay in step with him.

The Kirishima-Serizawa room (which, Haru supposed, was now just the Serizawa office) was on the fourth floor, so Haru and Makoto had to endure being trapped in the same elevator as Azuma. He made no commentary during their ascent, but once the ride stopped, he turned to Haru and asked, "Wouldn't it be nice to use those skills that Natsuya praised for good?"

_Prodigy._

Haru was flabbergasted, but Makoto, quick with his words, bowed his head and, smiling sheepishly, said, "Haru's a bit overwhelmed from today's events, sir. Would you mind if we spoke to Nao alone?"

"I had no intention of doing otherwise," said Azuma. "Nao's a bit of a mess himself, so be polite. Not like I think you're _rude_ ," he added, nodding at Haru.

Haru would have told him to leave, but Makoto took his hand and dragged him to Nao's door.

_You're a real prodigy, and we're gonna make something great outta you yet._

* * *

Rin was already inside when Kisumi shoved Haru and Yamazaki into the foyer. Everyone had congregated in the middle to welcome him, clapping and cheering loudly. "Congratulations!" and "Safe travels!" and "Kick ass!" were among the phrases emanating from the cheering group.

Rin had his arms wrapped around Makoto's neck in a tight embrace when Haru saw him. At the sight of Haru, Yamazaki, and Kisumi, Rin pulled himself away and sauntered over.

"You did all of this?" he asked Kisumi. Up close, Haru could see that Rin was sporting a light blush on his sharp cheekbones. He looked softer, like Haru was watching him through a haze. No trace of the fierce soldier that was set to depart the next morning.

"Planned it myself, but the rest of our guys helped," Kisumi responded. "We wanted your last day with us to be amazing."

"It'll only be a few months," laughed Rin, leaning against Yamazaki. Yamazaki rolled his eyes at the sudden contact, but he reached up to hold Rin's shoulder with one hand. Rin didn't seem to notice or object. "Don't make it sound like I'm dying."

"It _is_ dangerous," said Haru.

Yamazaki glared at him from over the top of Rin's head, but Rin giggled.

"Have some faith in me," he teased, swatting Yamazaki's arm. "You guys make it sound like I'm some weakling. I _am_ highly trained!"

"You're right," said Haru, directing his stare at Yamazaki. "We _should_ have faith in you, because you know what you're doing."

Yamazaki opened his mouth, no doubt to tell Haru off, but Makoto interjected. "Haru," he said with a wide smile, voice polite through teeth, "why don't we go get something to drink? I'm sure Rin wants to spend time with Sousuke and Kisumi."

Makoto took Haru's hand in his and led him through the crowd of Extrinsics to the kitchen. Haru inadvertently gripped Makoto's hand tighter; there was a _lot_ of commotion in the kitchen, a bunch of guys circled around a table chanting and clapping their hands—

As they got closer Haru understood what they were cheering for. At the head of the table was Natsuya, downing shots two at a time.

Haru had half a mind to turn and leave for his own dorm room—he'd seen Rin, which was all he came for, and he was satisfied enough—but Natsuya saw him as he set the glasses down.

"What's this?" Natsuya called over the noise. "Haru! Is that you?"

 _Great,_ thought Haru, _now I can't even pretend to ignore him_. He glanced up at Makoto for guidance.

"Just say hi, and then we can go," whispered Makoto.

Haru dipped his head into a small bow. "Hi, Natsuya."

The crowd parted to allow Natsuya to swagger around the table to them. Up close, Haru could see his cheeks were flushed, and his brown eyes appeared slightly unfocused.

"What are you doing here, sir?" asked Makoto. Haru wondered that as well; Kisumi made it clear this was a party for Extrinsics and Rin's close friends, and Natsuya was neither.

"Sei invited me," Natsuya explained, a slight slur to his words. He gestured vaguely to the foyer, where Seijuro was in rapt, loud discussion with a group of Extrinsics. "And I had to come, had to send off my _second favorite_ combat partner."

Haru wondered what role the promise of free liquor had played in his decision to attend.

"I'm sure Rin appreciates you being here, sir," said Makoto. Haru tried not to scoff; he doubted whether Rin cared, but Natsuya lit up at Makoto's words all the same. "Please excuse us. We're going back to talk to Rin."

And Makoto tugged Haru away from the kitchen and back into the foyer.

"I wish Seijuro told someone he was inviting Natsuya," Makoto mused. "Maybe then they would have less alcohol here."

"I've seen him worse," said Haru. He recalled one instance when he had gone to Natsuya's office for their scheduled meetings; Natsuya could barely stand, and he ended up vomiting all over the floor within minutes. Nao had been working in the infirmary when Haru arrived, but the moment he returned he rattled off more swears than Haru knew existed and threw Haru out. They never spoke of it since.

Makoto confided once that Nao commented that Natsuya was more likely to die from liver failure than in combat. Haru had to agree.

Haru wondered how Nao dealt with that. He had asked Makoto once, how two people could stay together despite the pain it brought, and Makoto just smiled his not-pity smile and said, "Nao says they're partners. Whatever they do, they support each other."

* * *

Azuma may have been a smarmy ass, but he had enough integrity to keep his promise. By the time Makoto and Haru reached Nao's door, Azuma was gone, leaving the two of them alone in what was surely going to be an awkward social situation for Haru.

"It's unlocked," Nao called from inside. Makoto opened the door slowly, and Haru was greeted with the sight of the room in complete disarray.

As Haru understood, the room was originally Nao's alone, and it was built with a single person in mind. Natsuya moved in at some point and the small space became even more cramped.

There was their "office," consisting of two desks and some mismatched chairs, and a sheer screen partitioning the room into two. Judging by the outline on the screen, Haru assumed their bed was on the other side; he had never walked that far.

Although the area was small, it was always neat—Nao took pride in his cleanliness and organization—so Haru was taken aback to see clothes strewn on the floor and across the desks. One of the chairs was overturned. A line of colored bottles had been shattered against the wall, their necks broken off, bleeding clear liquid out of glass shards.

In the midst of this turmoil was Nao himself. He was still in his black funeral garb, throwing items haphazardly into a bag on the ground. With every jerky movement, his glasses slipped further down his nose.

Makoto was shocked to see his mentor in this state. "Um," he piped up, "sir? We can leave and come another time, if you want—"

"No, no," said Nao breathlessly. He stood up straight and adjusted his glasses. "Please stay, if that's alright with you. I apologize for the mess."

Makoto's eyebrows were climbing up his forehead, but his voice was polite. "It's no problem."

Nao directed his attention to Haru. "Haruka Nanase. I'm sorry our first real conversation is under these circumstances."

"It's no problem," Haru echoed. Beleaguered, he silently added that he never wanted to have a 'real conversation' with Nao, but if Nao wanted to talk to him for whatever reason, so be it.

As Nao pushed his messy hair away from his face, Haru noticed something—or, rather, a distinct _lack_ of something on his hand.

"You're not wearing your ring," he observed.

As if it was news to Nao, he glanced at his fingers, then back at Haru.

"I took it off," he said simply. He reached under the collar of his shirt and revealed a silver chain hanging from his neck with a stone-studded ring as a pendant. "I think I'll sell it."

* * *

Rin was standing at the fireplace beneath the banner displaying his likeness. He smiled widely as Makoto and Haru approached, his impressively sharp teeth glinting.

"Get what you were looking for?" Rin asked.

"Natsuya's here," said Haru. Rin raised his eyebrows, whipping his head around in the direction of the kitchen.

"Shit," he muttered. "Should someone watch him?"

"He's fine," said Haru curtly.

"We have something to give you," supplied Makoto, reaching into the pocket of his coat. Rin's eyes widened as he covered his smile with his hands. Makoto produced an envelope, which Haru knew contained a long letter (Makoto had done most of the writing; Haru signed it and added a simple good luck message of his own).

"You shouldn't have," purred Rin, but he accepted the gift anyway.

"We don't expect an answer anytime soon," chuckled Makoto. "But if you _do_ have time and want to write back, please do—it'll be so lonely without you."

Haru thought it would be a reasonable enough request if Rin was going anywhere else, but Rin was to be deported to a southern naval base in an area with known Butterfly activity. Writing home would be the last thing on his mind; he would be primarily worried about survival.

"I'll try," said Rin, absentmindedly tracing his fingers across the edge of the envelope.

Haru noticed Rin's eyes were sparkling. He looked closer and saw teardrops clinging to his long lashes, some starting to roll down his cheeks.

Rin brushed them aside and continued mingling with the partygoers.

* * *

Social customs never came easily to Haru, but he was sure that it was odd for a bereaved fiancé to remove his engagement ring so soon, and _selling_ it at that. The old housewives that lived down the street had continued hounding him over his parents' deaths for years; he imagined being the deceased's lover would warrant a longer grieving period than whatever a neighbor experienced.

Makoto was frozen too, so Haru felt reassured.

"But," Makoto finally managed, "isn't it a bit soon?"

Nao shrugged. "I have to keep moving forward. I can't let myself become trapped by thoughts of what could have been."

Makoto's gaze was downcast. "I guess…"

"How are you, Haruka?" asked Nao, letting his ring drop back beneath his shirt.

 _How are you, Haruka?_ Those words were said to him over and over ever since he was fifteen. When it was about his parents, he disregarded them. They weren't family to him in the sense he wanted family to be, but acquaintances. People who occasionally spent time with him and then left him on his own.

Natsuya was no acquaintance. While the others at the Foundation nagged Haru about his "lack of aspirations," Natsuya would agree with him. When Natsuya asked Haru what he was aiming for, and Haru said, "to be free," Natsuya nodded and told Haru he felt the same way.

Was it Natsuya's carefree attitude that got him killed? If Natsuya was more driven, had a clear goal in mind, would he be alive?

Haru thought of Rin. What if Haru had taken the initiative and gone to fight overseas instead, like he was supposed to? Natsuya was the one to convince Haru to "do what he felt was right," and at the time Haru thought that meant to turn down the offer. Had Haru taken advice from a man whose philosophy ended his own life?

"I don't know," was Haru's response.

* * *

In Haru's opinion, there was no reason for the party to continue dragging on as long as it did. Rin had arrived, everyone had congratulated him, he'd shed a few tears, and half the group was intoxicated. Overall, Haru had no reason to stay there, but Makoto was too busy flitting about making conversation with everyone, and Haru had no intention of returning to his dorm by himself.

But the event did end, eventually. When midnight drew near, Kisumi, brandishing a champagne flute, stood on the staircase as if it were his stage and addressed the party on the floor below.

"Everyone," he announced, "I'm so grateful you all were able to help me host this. Without you, I don't think I would've been able to give Rin the goodbye he deserves."

Rin was on the bottom step. He ducked his head in coy bashfulness, muttering, "you really didn't have to."

"But I did, because you deserve to know how important you are to us!" Kisumi beamed. His white teeth shone. "Isn't that right, everyone?"

Voices of assent from the crowd. Then, behind Haru, a disgruntled, " _Such_ a good speaker, just like your dad. No wonder you're a politician's son. Sound just like him after—after he won Tokyo."

Mentioning Kisumi's father was almost as big a faux pas as bringing up Rin's, so it was no surprise the source of the comment was a very, _very_ inebriated Natsuya. He was swaying, gripping onto one of the Extrinsic guys for support.

Kisumi's face turned the same bright pink shade as his hair, as it was apt to do whenever someone brought up his family.

"See him out," he spluttered to two Extrinsics. They obeyed, each hooking an arm under Natsuya's and walking him to the door.

Rin watched the scene with an amused smile.

Kisumi returned to his normal complexion and finished his speech without terribly obvious stammers. He led them in a last cheer for Rin (Haru's ears ended up ringing), and then the Extrinsics began climbing up the staircase to their rooms.

Finally relieved, Haru grabbed Makoto's hand and was about to make his way to the door when Rin stopped him with a quiet, "yo, Haru."

He was still wearing the same easy smile. As he walked closer, Haru noticed that the tears were gone from his eyes.

"Can I talk to you? Privately?" he jutted his thumb towards the staircase. "In my room."

Haru sighed, looking up at Makoto. "We were just going back—"

"It won't take long," said Rin. He spoke with urgency.

Makoto's not-pity smile made its appearance. "Haru," he said, "I'll wait for you here, okay?"

Haru chewed the inside of his cheek. Makoto was trying to facilitate a social interaction, he was sure of it, but he couldn't understand why. Hadn't they spent enough time milling about?

But he agreed nonetheless. He trusted Makoto's sense when it came to this.

"Okay," said Haru.

They climbed the stairs side by side. The second floor fit Haru's imagination and exceeded it all the same: a long hall with glossy wood floors, doors with intricate carvings, and even a small chandelier overhanging. Haru thought back to the white walls and bright lights of the Elementals' hallway and felt a slight twinge of jealousy.

Other Extrinsics hastened about, entering and leaving their rooms. A few noticed Rin and Haru walking together and winked, causing Rin to glower at them.

"Don't flatter yourself," he warned Haru. "Nothing—nothing _like that_ 's happening. I just want to talk. Pull anything funny and I'll slit your throat, though."

Haru rolled his eyes.

When they arrived at Rin's room, Yamazaki and Kisumi were inside, sitting on one of two large beds.

"Hey, guys," greeted Rin, striding in and motioning for Haru to follow. "Mind giving us a few minutes?"

Yamazaki said nothing and remained seated, but Kisumi sprang up.

" _Ooh,_ is Rin getting in some last-minute fun before he leaves us?" he teased. "Sousuke, he's growing up so fast! Soon he won't need us anymore… whatever shall we do now that our Rin is discovering the world of carnal delights—"

"Please fuck off," sighed Rin. Kisumi cackled.

"What the hell do you know about ' _carnal delights_? _'"_ murmured Yamazaki, finally getting to his feet and making his way to the door.

"Sadly, much too little. Want to come to my room and teach me?"

Laughing at the shared mortification on the others' faces, Kisumi pranced out. Yamazaki stopped by the threshold, eyes boring into Haru's.

"Stay on Rin's side of the room," he instructed Haru, then followed Kisumi. The door swung shut behind him.

Rin groaned, crouching on the ground next to his bed.

"Sorry about them," he said, patting a spot on the lacquered floor next to him. Haru sat there. "Sousuke's a grumpy dick and Kisumi—well. You know how he is."

"I…"

"You look so flustered!" Rin snickered. "Kisumi's just being an ass. Didn't I promise nothing would happen? As _if_ I would try to steal you away from Makoto. You're not my type, no offense."

"Makoto?" Haru blinked. "What does Makoto have to do with this?"

Rin huffed. He appeared as exasperated as he was when trying to explain combat to first-years. "Honestly? You're still—never mind."

Haru didn't push the topic further; Rin's face turned solemn.

"I know Sousuke spoke to you," Rin said.

"He did."

"Trying to make you convince me to stay?"

Haru _wished_ he had water then to calm his nerves. Rin was extremely sensitive, and Haru never knew how to navigate the labyrinth of his emotions. He'd inadvertently pissed off Rin several times before and never understood why; this conversation was too important to risk offending him again.

There was no decent way out, though, and Haru kept his eyes trained on Rin's face as he asked, "Are you _really_ sure this is what you want?"

Rin brought his knees to his chest. "It's all I've ever wanted."

"You're not going just to impress me?"

Rin glared at him. "Why the hell would I want to impress _you_?" he asked. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Yamazaki."

"Of _course._ " Rin exhaled heavily. Strands of his red hair danced against his forehead. "I get enough lecturing from Sousuke on a daily basis. I don't need more, least of all from _you_."

"Okay," said Haru. "Then I won't lecture you."

Rin raised an eyebrow; Haru continued, "I'm speaking to you as a friend."

" _Oh, for_ _fuck's sake—"_

 _"_ I don't care about being a combatant and I never did," said Haru, his voice flat. Rin was staring straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with Haru, so Haru spoke to the ceiling. "I just like being around the water. You know this, Rin. It was never about being a combatant. I just… it feels the most natural for me to be with the water; I feel stronger. I guess it makes me feel stronger when I spar, too, but for me it's always been about the water."

* * *

The beach was beautifully empty when he and Makoto arrived. A slight breeze welcomed them, blowing sand into their shoes and mist into their faces. Wordlessly, Haru marched to the coast, Makoto trotting behind him

Muddy sand squelched underneath him as he sat near the water. He felt slightly remorseful, realizing that now Mrs. Tachibana would have to clean his pants, but it was impossible to focus on anything when he assumed his role as a suppliant to the sea.

* * *

"But _how?_ " Rin's eyes found Haru's again. "How can you… how are you okay letting your talent go to waste like this?"

"I don't think I'm letting anything go to waste."

"You are!"

"I'm—"

"You're easily the one of the best combatants this place has seen—don't argue with me, you've heard how they talk about you—and all you want to do is sit around playing in puddles!"

"Rin—"

Rin's voice was breaking. "Of course you don't see it. It all comes _natural_ to you—you've never had to train your ass off just for the _chance_ to be considered for anything—"

" _Rin_ —"

"Amakata approached you first but you had the _luxury_ of turning her down—what luxury do I have?"

"Rin, please!" Haru winced at the sharpness of his own voice, but Rin wouldn't let him speak otherwise. "Are you seriously okay with dying just to maintain your… your pride, is that it?"

"Oh—you really _do_ sound like Sousuke now." Rin straightened his legs, leaning his head back against the bed. "This isn't _pride_ , but I can't expect you to understand."

"You don't have to do this," Haru said. "You don't need to go out there to prove anything—not to me, not to the Foundation, not to yourself. You really can live on your own terms like I do. We… Ya—Sousuke and I, and Makoto and Kisumi and everyone else… we just want you to be safe."

"I _am."_ Rin's voice was small, barely audible. "I need to do this for myself. I need to—I decided on this path long ago, before I even _met_ you, and I'm not backing away just because you're scared I'll die. I know the risks—fuck, I've _lived_ them, so I don't need _you_ , or Sousuke, or anyone else trying to explain my own life to me!"

Haru let Rin continue ranting—a mistake, but one that seemed appropriate in the moment.

"Hell, _Sousuke_ 's putting himself in danger every other week, but I don't yell at him for his choices! Do you yell at Makoto? Do you try to psychoanalyze why _he's_ always throwing himself into dangerous situations?"

"They're different—"

"Are they?" Rin laughed humorlessly. "Their team rescues people from dangerous situations—maybe more dangerous than where I'm going—so where's your anger at them? And it's not like Makoto just sits back with a first-aid kit while Sousuke does the hard work; he's out there, on the ground, dodging fire and bullets and fuck knows what else, _just like I'll be._ "

Haru stared at his hands. This conversation was somehow turning out worse than he had expected.

"I know you're here mostly by Sousuke's doing, and I've already told him what a hypocrite he is," snarled Rin, "but you're not entirely blameless either. Maybe, before you go argue that someone's throwing their future away, you should have some sort of aspirations of your own. Right now, you're just talking out of your ass."

Well. It was clear that Rin's mind was set, and Haru had no desire to listen to Rin lecture _him_. He stood up and, turning his back to Rin, said, "I won't stop you. Stay safe. Goodbye."

Makoto was waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. He made no comment about Haru's stony expression, and the two of them set out into the frost-tinged night, to the comfort of their cheaply-furnished dorm.

* * *

Nao cleared off the desks by sweeping the clutter onto the floor. He righted the overturned chair and sat down, encouraging Haru and Makoto to do the same. He offered to brew tea for them; they declined.

"Natsuya always spoke very highly of you," Nao told Haru once they had settled, pretending the room around them wasn't a complete disaster. "He didn't say it explicitly, but I sensed that he thought of you as if you were his brother. He… he was more of a paternal figure to Ikuya, so I suspect by teaching you he was able to finally experience a more traditional sort of brotherhood."

"How is Ikuya?" asked Makoto tentatively.

Nao gazed beyond them. "Not well," he admitted. "Grief is really affecting him. He's distraught and having some difficulty accepting it all."

"I wish there was something we could do," Makoto said. Haru frowned at his words. _We_? Haru wasn't willing to help Ikuya with his grief.

"You're very considerate," Nao cooed. "Ikuya and I will be going back home to Iwatobi; you can visit if you'd like. We're inviting Hiyori and Satomi—you know them, right?—to visit us, too."

"I don't think we know Ikuya well enough," Haru interjected. "It's best for him to be with his close friends."

"Oh—yes, you're probably right, Haru." A sheepish laugh from Makoto.

Nao offered Makoto that not-pity smile Haru was so accustomed to see on Makoto's lips.

"I'm quite proud to have you as my protégé," he said, causing Makoto to blush. "I hope to be as good of a mentor to you as Natsuya was to Haruka."

As Makoto blubbered about how he was lucky to have Nao as a mentor, Haru considered Nao's words. Was Natsuya truly impressed by his abilities, or was he just a way for Natsuya to fulfill whatever role he failed at in Ikuya's life?

"Haruka." Nao's voice cut through his thoughts. "I know Natsuya was a bit unconventional in his approach to life. Maybe you could say he had some… _radical_ views. Would you agree?"

Haru balked slightly. Was Nao testing him? He was sure there was a polite way to answer, and an honest way, and he was sure those were two very different responses.

He went with honesty. "Yes."

"Did he ever tell you what his family was like?"

"Only that it was difficult."

"Out of respect for Ikuya's privacy, I won't share many details, but Natsuya filed for emancipation from their parents a little while after he met me," Nao explained. "He became Ikuya's legal guardian then, but he was always Ikuya's sole caretaker, since Natsuya learned adults—authority—couldn't be trusted to take care of him. Of them."

"That's awful," Makoto whispered.

"I can't say he overcame it," Nao continued, "because he didn't. I—I know I'm still affected by the way my parents kicked me out, and a few weeks homeless is nothing compared to the years Natsuya and Ikuya spent with their parents. So in that sense, I think Natsuya was _that way_ because of his upbringing."

Where was this going? Haru tried to search Makoto's expression for a hint, but Makoto was engrossed in Nao's story.

"And so," said Nao. "he always wanted to be free. Free of authority, free of responsibility. Am I correct in my understanding that you share this desire, Haruka?"

Did he have to make everything sound like an interrogation? Again, Haru couldn't discern whether there was an ulterior motive in Nao's question—Nao was an intelligent strategist, so there _had_ to be one—but he replied honestly.

"Natsuya… understood me," he said. "When I told him that I don't want to work for the Foundation, even though I can fight well, he agreed with me."

Nao sat back on his haunches, regarding Haru over the rims of his glasses. "Yes, that sounds consistent with what he told me. I don't know you as well as he did, but on the surface I don't see many similarities in your personalities. It's your mentality that's the same. You also grew up without much parental support, right?"

"My parents died when I was fifteen." Nothing to hide, nothing to lie about. He was sure this was old news to Nao. "Even before that I was taking care of myself."

"I knew as much. That explains it." Nao was quiet for a moment, green eyes faraway in thought. "Haruka, do you know what Natsuya's motto was?"

Haru turned his head away. His throat was beginning to constrict; he breathed heavily through his nose. "Goddamn Amakata?"

Scandalized, Makoto jabbed his elbow into Haru's side, but Nao laughed heartily.

" _No—_ I mean, _yes_ , he sure favored that particular phrase—but no, the words he loved enough to engrave on our rings."

"Oh." Haru tried to picture any of Natsuya's sayings on a ring; they tended to be crude, too inappropriate for jewelry.

"When I asked him how he coped with everything, back when we first met, he told me that he tried to push through without any worries. That the only thing he feared was regret. Of course, maybe that was all bravado in his attempts to court me, but I think he was serious." Nao pulled his ring out again. Peering closer, Haru could see faint words traced around the interior. "' _Clear away today.'_ That's how Natsuya coped. He was always looking forward; any problems or anxieties he experienced one day were inconsequential to him."

"That type of avoidance doesn't seem healthy," said Makoto as Nao examined his ring in the light.

"I thought so, too," confessed Nao, "and told him that. In turn, he told me that I was holding myself back by being too preoccupied by day-to-day issues. I suppose it's romantic in a sense, encouraging us to look forward to a future together instead of worrying about our lives now."

"Romantic…?" Makoto's voice trailed off.

"We didn't have a conventional relationship. That's the type of romantic gesture we were accustomed to." Again, Nao turned to Haru. "It's alright if you don't have a set goal in mind right now. Maybe it's alright if you never do. In light of everything, I think… I think a lot of us are reconsidering what's important to us. And if my opinion counts for anything, I think the most important thing for you, Haruka, is to follow your own path. Be free. Natsuya would want that. Try to clear away today, too."

* * *

Makoto winced as he sat next to Haru. Haru wanted to tell him he could get up, that there was no reason for him to dirty his clothes for Haru, but Makoto was undeterred. The waves rose, crashed, spraying drops at the two boys.

Haru matched his breathing to the pattern of the tide. As the water rolled towards him he inhaled; as it retreated his exhaled. Gradually, the water approached closer, tickling Haru and then dragging him with the sand.

 _In_. The light caught in the surf as the wave drew up. _Out_. A blast of water against Haru's arms.

He tasted wet salt; Haru was unsure whether it was from the sea or his own eyes.

"Haru," said Makoto, "you don't need to hide your emotions. It's okay to be upset, or sad, or—man, I can't imagine how you're feeling."

The sea reached out, wetting his slacks. Haru and Makoto slid forward with the movement of the water.

"You don't have to be afraid. It's only me," continued Makoto. "You just went through something awful; it would be weirder if you weren't upset."

"I'm—I'm not sad," Haru gritted.

"It's okay if you are—"

"But I'm not." He clenched his hands into fists and pressed them against his eyes; he was definitely crying. "I'm… I just feel angry."

"Angry?" There was no judgement in Makoto's voice, only curiosity.

"I don't know!" Haru yelled over the crash of the waves. "They didn't even feel like my parents! They didn't even feel like family! Everyone just keeps—keeps talking to me, they all expect me to feel sad, and I don't know why I don't!"

He stood, his legs shaking.

"Your parents couldn't be close because they loved you," said Makoto calmly. "I know they weren't around much, but they cared about you—"

"Your family cares about me more than mine ever did," he seethed, "At least I know what your parents' powers are—mine never thought I was important enough to know theirs—"

He whirled around so that his back was facing the sea; he could just make out the outlines of the Iwatobi roofs, silhouetted against dull grey clouds. Makoto was looking up at him, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging in—fear? Panic?

"Haru—"

Furiously, he scrubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"So maybe I am sad! Maybe I'm sad because I never got the chance to know the people I'm supposed to be fucking mourning!"

" _Haruka Nanase_!"

He had never heard Makoto sound so terrified. A bit of an overreaction to Haru's harsh vocabulary, but—

"Haru, _turn around_!"

And, in what would be the slowest second of his life, he spun around, nearly stumbling backwards at what he saw.

The tide had certainly risen, along with the rest of the ocean for as far as Haru could see. In place of the sea, an enormous, swirling tower of water stretched to the sky.

_Shit._

* * *

Makoto's entire body was tense when they returned to the elevator. His back was stiff, his jaw clenched, and his gaze directed straight. Telltale signs he was worried about something, but Haru could not fathom why.

When the door slid closed, Makoto blurted out, "Do you think he's safe?"

"What?"

"Nao. Maybe we should ask if one of those counselors the Headmistress mentioned could see him?"

"Why?"

"Did that look like a mentally sound person?" Makoto puffed out a sigh. "He was so nonchalant. I just hope he's not… you know, bottling up his feelings. Then they'll overflow—"

"Makoto." Haru tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but Makoto flinched anyway. "Do you think that maybe Nao knows how he's feeling better than you do?"

"Of—of course, I'm not trying to undermine him—"

"Then leave it." Haru knew very well that Nao's placid smile could easily conceal a maelstrom of pain, and he knew _Makoto_ knew. He didn't fault Makoto for being concerned.

After what he made Makoto witness years ago, he understood.

Still, though, Makoto's need to solve other people's problems was both Haru's favorite and least favorite trait of his. Sometimes, Haru needed Makoto to sit him down and tell him exactly how to deal with administrators pestering him, or neighbors pitying him. Other times, Haru wished Makoto could back off.

For someone so attuned to others' emotions, Makoto sure had a hard time realizing when his input was unwanted.

* * *

Haru took a few hesitant steps away from the shoreline. "What—"

Makoto shrieked again, and this time Haru could see why.

A tall man had _appeared_ next to them. Haru was frozen; he had been certain the beach was empty, and when he glanced down at the sand, he did not see any path of the stranger's footprints.

"You're a feisty one, little Nanase!" he called over the resounding roars of the water.

"How do you know—"

"Never mind that now; can't you see the fucking _sea_ is in the _sky_?"

Haru felt his head began to throb. "I… did I…"

"You sure did, and now you're gonna make it right."

"I can't." Haru tore his eyes away. "I don't know how I did it… I don't know how to stop it."

"Whatever you did to make it start? Do the opposite of that."

"Opposite…?"

Makoto spoke up then. "You were yelling and crying."

Obviously he'd stopped yelling and crying the moment the stranger showed up, but the water hadn't returned to its original state.

"An emotional response," drawled the man.

"What—"

"It's common in kids whose powers are startin' to show. You just need to control it." The man crossed his arms, looking down at Haru with mild annoyance. "Don't think about what's goin' on out there. I want you to close your eyes and focus on breathing. Nothin' else; not me, not your friend here. Nothin' matters to you right now other than breathing."

Haru felt like his head was about to split open from the pain. "How…"

"The water's reflectin' your emotions. Calm down. Don't focus on anything; just feel yourself calmin' down."

Haru glared; the man scoffed.

"You gonna just stand there starin' like an idiot?"

"Haru," came Makoto's soft voice, "please just try to clear your mind. For—for me."

 _Wouldn't that be nice for you,_ _Makoto_ , came a biting remark in his head. _Of course the first time I cry like this screws up the damn ocean. Going back to calm would be easiest for you to deal with. Easiest for everyone._

"The water's not moving," the man snapped.

"Please try," Makoto repeated.

So Haru did. He shut his eyes, turning away Makoto, the man, and the sea, and began to breathe.

 _The water's reflecting my emotions._ He imagined the anger, the grief, the confusion of it all pouring out of him in the form of water and into the sea.

Haru bit his tongue. He pictured the ocean calming down, the tower of displaced water falling back.

He felt the hungry pull twist inside him again.

 _Don't focus._ He repeated the man's words in his mind like a mantra. _Just feel._

He was unsure how long he stood there, with the rise and fall of his lungs the only thing in the world. Seconds or minutes later, whichever it was, a thunderous crash brought him back to life, followed by a heavy splash of water against his back.

He opened his eyes and fell to his knees at what he saw.

The water had—well, he wasn't exactly sure _what_ , but the sky-bound pillar was gone, and the sea was flat again. Sunlight glinted off the waves as they rolled over each other—back and forth, the tide normal and unchanged.

" _Oh my god_."

Haru wasn't sure if it was he or Makoto who spoke, but the boy dropped to the sand next to Haru and began squeezing Haru's shoulders, his hands, cupping Haru's face in his palms and watching him reverently, cheeks blotchy and eyes painted pink with tears.

"Makoto…"

A few hours ago, when he woke up in the Tachibana's guest room, he wondered whether he was living in a dream. If Makoto, in all his quiet gentleness, was a grief-induced hallucination.

With Makoto here, and the ocean lapping behind them in its usual rhythm, Haru thought that he was correct. Maybe he was actually asleep in his own bed, and his parents were alive, and he wasn't prone to lifting the sea into the air when he felt unhappy.

Makoto was wiping sand and water—a mix of the ocean and his own tears—from Haru's face, tripping over apologies.

"I'm so sorry, _I'm so sorry, Haru_ , I shouldn't have tried to talk about your emotions, I should've just left you alone, _oh god_ , this is my fault, _I'm so sorry_ —"

Haru raised his shaking hands to halt Makoto's.

He wanted to forgive Makoto, assure Makoto that none of this was his fault, that Makoto was the functioning one and Haru was the one who couldn't handle his emotions properly, but as Makoto fussed over him, all he wanted was to dissolve into the water, mix with the sea forever and never have to deal with feelings again.

There were loud splashes as the strange man approached them.

"This is touching," he commented, his lips curling into a smirk.

"You…"

Haru then took his first good look at the man's face. He was situated at a poor angle, and needed to crane his head back just to see the man's eyes.

The man had scraggly dark hair, hooded eyes framed by deep wrinkles, and the bemused smirk Haru could find in the few photographs of his mother.

He was familiar. Haru frowned as he registered why.

"You were at the funeral," Haru realized.

"'Course I was." The man's smile widened. "I worked with your parents for a little while, years ago. They couldn't bend water like you can, but it's clear you have their strength."

Haru perked up, staggering onto his feet. "You knew them?"

"I did." He answered Haru's next question before Haru had the chance to ask. "No, I won't tell you what they did, or their powers. Sorry."

Haru frowned. The man shook his head, wavy hair curtaining his eyes.

"Your parents were good at their job, that's all I'll say," he said. "What happened to them was a damn shame. Pretty great loss."

The man then reached forward, gripping Haru and Makoto by their shoulders. Makoto screamed, and Haru tried to shake the man's hand off to no avail; his fingers were digging into them.

"I'm gonna need you two to hold your breaths, okay?"

Makoto began to scream again, and Haru was about to do the same, but then the man's grip tightened and Haru felt like he was falling.

(Sometimes, when he lay in bed, he would have the dizzying sensation of falling while remaining planted in one place. That was how he felt at that moment: excruciatingly dizzy, yet firmly steady).

The feeling lasted for a breath. When he felt solid again and opened his eyes—he never remembered closing them—he saw that they were still on the beach, but further inland, on the tall sand dunes; the sea was still in the distance, horizontal, white crests spitting foam as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"You two were just sittin' in the water. I was concerned you'd get hypothermia, all busy staring into each other's eyes and whatnot," the man said.

Although he was slightly green in the face, Makoto blinked at the man in awe.

"You can teleport," he marveled.

"Astute observation."

Haru bristled at the man's dry tone towards Makoto; Makoto withered slightly, but the admiration in his eyes remained unchanged.

"Who are you?" asked Haru.

"Ah. Yeah, I should introduce myself." The man dug into his breast-pocket and produced a little card with his face and name printed on it. "Ryuji Azuma. Deputy Headmaster of the Foundation for the Refuge and Education of the Extraordinary. And you—" he pointed the card at Haru, "—are going to enroll in a few years."

Although there was now distance between them and the water, Haru could hear the undulating rush of the ocean in his ears. The sea was breathing inside him; he heard vague sounds from Azuma and Makoto, heard Azuma express shock at Haru's age and scoff at Makoto's nervous stammer, but their voices were muffled; Haru wondered if he was drowning.

"Prodigy," Azuma said, just before he disappeared into nothingness. Haru could hear that clearly. "You're a real prodigy, and we're gonna make something great outta you yet."

When he was gone, Haru curled into the sand and wondered whether the noise he heard was from the tide or the pulse of his own blood.

* * *

He kept his black attire on in his dorm, although Makoto exchanged his outfit for the loose green sweater his mother made. Haru sat perched on his bed, idly stirring the water in his basin, as he watched Makoto neatly fold their clothing into their shared satchel—Haru had so few items of his own, they all fit into Makoto's bag without taking up much room.

The two were interrupted by three loud knocks against their door. Makoto startled, nearly dropping the shirt in his arms, but Haru rose to meet their visitor.

"Sasabe."

" _Deputy Headmaster_ Sasabe," Makoto choked out, throwing the shirt into the bag and rushing to Haru's side. "What do you—what brings you here?"

Sasabe's blond hair, shaven on one side in an attempt at a chic style, was sticking in all directions. His clothes were rumpled, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead; he had clearly run.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked, but he did not wait for an answer; he pushed his way past Makoto and Haru and took long, deep breaths as he stood in the center of their room.

Haru wondered if Natsuya's funeral had rendered all the staff this harried. First Nao, now Sasabe. _Great_ , he thought bitterly, _in a few months it'll be my final year here and these are the people overseeing me._

Sasabe caught his breath. His back straightened and his hands clasped in front of him.

He was one of the most jovial instructors in the Foundation; he was seen as a friend rather than teacher to many students. Now, his expression was more somber than Haru had ever seen him.

"I have news from the southern base," he declared.

_Southern base? Southern base, where's that—Rin, Rin's there, he's been stationed there, is he alright, is he coming home is he hurt is he dead—_

"The southern base, sir?" Makoto repeated quietly.

"It's about your friend, Rin."

_Rin. Rin Rin Rin he's overseas Sasabe has news about Rin Rin's overseas what's wrong with Rin—_

Haru registered the sound of a crack as the water in the basin turned to ice, and then he was careening forward. Makoto caught him before he hit his head on the floor.

The next thing Haru saw was Makoto's face taking up most of his vision, blurring into focus as Haru blearily blinked.

He wasn't sure how long he was out. He remembered Sasabe's frown as he said Rin's name, and now he was lying on his back, head cradled in Makoto's hands.

"It's alright, Haru." He could hear Makoto's distant voice—Makoto was so close to him, Haru could feel his words, but he sounded so far away, _so far away_ —and, squinting, he could make out the shape of Sasabe in the background. "Just breathe with me."

Haru opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no noise came out.

"Did he eat well enough?" Sasabe asked from someplace above.

"I—I don't know, sir; today was… very hectic. It's my fault. I should've made him eat more."

"I'm not hungry," Haru finally managed.

Sasabe kneeled. He was now level with Haru and Makoto. Haru could see deep lines in his forehead where his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Can you stand?" Sasabe asked.

"I think so." He pushed himself out of Makoto's grip. His legs wobbled slightly, so he sat on his bed, rocking as he sank into the too-soft mattress.

The water in the basin was still frozen over. Haru began to reach towards it, but Sasabe stopped him.

"Our powers are no good when we're in these states," he admonished.

Haru glared at the ice. The ice did not respond.

"Are you up for hearing what I have to say about Rin?" Sasabe asked, resting his hands on his hips.

 _Rin, he has news about Rin, what if Rin's dead what if he—_ "I am."

"First, I apologize for being so cryptic. 'Course you would assume the worst." Sasabe sighed. "Rin's okay. He's alive, and as far as I know, uninjured."

"That's—that's good," said Makoto. "He's doing well with his mission?"

"… well, that's the thing." Sasabe dragged a hand through his unruly hair, somehow tangling it even more in the process. "He's been discharged. Set to return in the next few days."

Bewildered silence. Makoto was agape, tilting his head as he usually did when puzzled, as if changing its angle would clarify anything.

"Discharged?" Haru repeated. "Why? He's supposed to stay there until next semester's midterms, at least."

"The details are still unclear," Sasabe said. "but it was originally… less-than-honorable. We—the Headmistress, Azuma, and I—have been calling his superior officers and even the Sydney branch's Headmaster nonstop this afternoon to commute it to a general one—I think Amakata's still talking to them right now, actually—"

"Wait," said Makoto, fidgeting with the knitted cords of his sleeves, "It was originally a dishonorable discharge?"

"No, less-than-honorable. A general discharge with a footnote—everyone involved would know the real reason—"

"Which is?" Haru pressed.

"As far as we can tell? Insubordination. Disobeying the commanders, doing his own things, apparently starting petty crap with higher-ups—along those lines."

Haru shook his head, lowering his gaze. "That can't be true."

Sasabe threw his hands up in resignation. "Trust me, all of us in Amakata's office had that reaction when we got the news," he groaned. "Amakata herself was most shocked of all; makes sense, since the Extrinsics are her class, and she was the one who gave Rin this opportunity."

"Rin's dream was fighting as a combatant." Haru couldn't look Sasabe in the eyes, so he spoke to his hideous hairstyle. Rin's words rang in his ears: _it's all I've ever wanted_. "He wouldn't throw it away like this."

"Beats me." Sasabe made his way to leave. "Ryuji's thinking this might be some type of mental break. Cracking under pressure. Which—great! Everyone deserves a breakdown at least once in their lives! You know, with… everything… that happened this week, I had a bit of one on Wednesday. No shame! Just don't do it when others' lives are at risk, you hear me?"

Dumbfounded, Makoto mumbled a "yes, sir" as Sasabe marched out of their room.

* * *

_Dear Rin,_

_We can't believe you're finally making your dreams come true! This is such an amazing opportunity for you; we're so proud that you're able to move closer to your goal of becoming a great combatant._

_Sometimes, it's hard to believe you're the same guy who transferred to Iwatobi in our last year. We still remember the way you literally charged into our lives (Haru had those bruises on his knees for a week!), and the way you fought poor Izumi Murayama just for his seat in front of Haru's! No, Rin, we didn't forget._

_We remember introducing you to Nagisa, and you introducing us to Gou. Honestly, we can't tell if those two love or hate each other—one minute they're driving each other crazy, the next they're planning sleepovers. I guess that's just friendship! We still think about when you invited us to your house—we'd never been in a home so fancy before that and were too terrified to accidentally touch something that we forgot to enjoy ourselves._

_We may be in different cohorts, but we have always cheered for your success. You and Haru have this healthy competition thing going on and it's only been beneficial to both of you. Rin, we've seen you work harder than anyone else to achieve this. All those late nights crying to us over assignments in the library, all those early mornings we've watched you practicing those flying-kick-chokehold-things that we'll never have the leg strength to pull off—it's all been for this moment. You deserve this more than anyone._

_Stay safe, make us proud, and come back stronger than before._

_All our love,_

_Makoto and Haru_

* * *

Makoto had left him alone in their room. Claimed he wanted to speak with Nao again—or Sasabe, or both. It didn't matter to Haru; Makoto was out which meant he didn't have to see Haru with his head submerged in the basin.

To Haru, water was the best medium to suppress emotions in. Given the events of that day, he figured it was one of the better coping mechanisms around him. Rin used combat and lost his dream job. Natsuya used alcohol and lost his life.

Water could silence screams and hide tears; water could entrance him and make him forget everything he experienced in the last twenty-four hours and beyond.

Along with being able to bend the water with his hands, his power allowed him to breathe under the surface. Normally, he liked being able to curl up and rest in the seclusion of a bath or pool, but as he let the water in the basin splash around his face, he wished he could drown like everyone else.

Not that Haru wanted to _drown_ -drown. He just wanted the experience of dedicating all his thoughts to something important like survival, wanted to feel his lungs scream and mind fog. Wanted to save himself just in time and breathe precious air, just to remind himself that he was real and that he could engage in that type of desperate fight for life.

Unfortunately, he felt none of that. With no pleas for survival, no shutting-downs of his organs, the only thoughts in his mind were replays of the day's events.

_Sasabe's news. Natsuya's funeral. Butterfly out there, somewhere, plotting, fighting, killing—_

In the basin he could scream and cry without anyone knowing. His voice was muffled, his tears negligible against the rest of the water.

_Rin discharged for insubordination, Rin who broke and cried that he needed to fight for his father's memory, that it was his dream, now coming back discharged dishonored and he'll never be accepted into another position it should've been me Yamazaki was right discharged dishonored it should've been me—_

_Natsuya, Natsuya was supposed to be married he was supposed to teach me how to live how to be free now dead killed by the people Rin failed to defeat Nao moving on Ikuya not talking Natsuya dead and Rin dishonored discharged—_

There was something alluring about being able to scream where no one could hear you. He cried until his throat burned and his lungs protested—which he imagined must feel a bit like drowning.

Coughing, he yanked his head out of the water.

* * *

_Rin,_

_Good luck. Don't do anything stupid._

_Haru_

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana were understandably shocked to find Haru and Makoto drenched and muddy when they returned, and even more so to learn the reason. Once Haru and Makoto had cleaned up, the whole family sat down for an early dinner, where Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana attempted to console Haru with stories from when their own powers presented.

"I was making everyone around me break out into a sweat or a sudden chill for _months_ ," said Mr. Tachibana, spooning seaweed onto Ren's plate. "Thankfully, the Foundation director who came to our school got me able to control it in no time."

"It was the same for me," said Mrs. Tachibana, pouring a glass of fruit juice for Ran. "I was too embarrassed to go near the beach because I once accidentally threw sand into my friend's eyes. You have nothing to fear; after a lesson with one of those Foundation directors you'll feel more in control than ever before."

The Tachibanas did not feel right to let Haru sleep at his own house, so he retired to the guest room again. As he lay on the futon, he strained his ears for the sound of the ocean. The cyclical ebb of the tide, the unyielding flow of the sea.

He did not sleep much that night, nor any night after.

* * *

A week after Natsuya's funeral, a week after Rin's discharge, a week since returning to the serenity of Iwatobi, Haru woke up to a letter in his barely-used mailbox.

 _Dearest Haruka Nanase,_ in glittering blue ink,

_I am writing to offer my deepest condolences regarding Natsuya's passing. I truly wished to speak to you in person to deliver this message, but I was faced with a sudden problem that needed my immediate attention. On that account, I apologize most earnestly._

_You probably know that Natsuya and I did not always see eye-to-eye on certain matters. That much is true; he did not care to follow most of my instructions, and there were many instances where I was frustrated by his attitude._

_Although he refused to officially identify as such, he was one of the greatest combatants I have ever seen here. He could have become a top commander, easily; I believe that, if I had pushed him more, he could have realized his own capabilities. We lost a great asset to our cause._

_You are unlike any student in recent memory. Your abilities far surpass your peers—I will go so far as to say they surpass plenty of older combatants on the front lines right now. I don't want your talent to go unnoticed. Please, reconsider your position. I urge you to think carefully about your future; do you really want to return to regular civilization instead of using your powers to help end this war with Butterfly?_

_You could have left after your first year but did not, which leads me to believe that there is a part of you that wants to do great things, a part that knows what you're capable of._

_I hope to hear a response from you before the next term begins._

_M. Amakata,_ _Headmistress_

_P.S. Have you been in contact with Rin Matsuoka? He was officially discharged from his service last week, but he has not been seen since then. If he contacts you, kindly remind him to speak with me as soon as possible or risk further consequences._

Haru took the letter with him on his daily walk to the seaside and threw it into the ocean. He watched it bob along the water's surface for a few moments, then sink into the sea's depths.

Drowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these will all be explained in-story, but i decided to post some explanations here just for clarity 
> 
> students are split into cohort based on the type of ability they have. **extrinsics** have powers that rely on other people (e.g. sousuke can read others' minds, nao can control their senses. nao can't manipulate his own senses).  
>  **intrinsics** have powers that affect their own bodies (teleportation, like azuma, as well as things like invisibility, super strength, super speed).  
>  **elementals** can manipulate non-human elements in the environment (water, sand, temperature, earth, fire, air, light, sound, along those lines).
> 
> students can concentrate (i guess, 'major') in different fields. these are just some:
> 
>  **search and rescue** : makoto, sousuke, seijuro, and other characters we haven't met yet; these are the equivalent of first-responders (paramedics, police, firefighters, etc). when civilians are in danger, these are the people who go rescue them. i was inspired by their future fish jobs lol  
>  **medicine** : nao and others we haven't met yet; self-explanatory, they're combinations of doctors and surgeons  
>  **politics** : kisumi and others we haven't met yet; the politics of this world are pretty central to the story, and while the foundation is treated as a sovereign entity, they still have to cooperate with the human government. deciding how much or how little information should be conveyed to the government is a main concern  
>  **combat** : rin; so i know this is tricky because there's reference to characters being good at _combat_ without being _combatants_. all students learn how to fight (combat), but only a few focus on training as _combatants_ (military equivalent) going out to fight butterfly  
> some, like haru and natsuya, chose not to major in anything, and as we see this is a source of conflict/disagreement. if you're wondering why natsuya was sent to attack butterfly, instead of an actual combatant, you're asking good questions ;) if not...then i've planted that idea in your head for you to think about ^w^


End file.
